


The Boy King

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be my savior and I'll be your downfall in the shadow of your heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy King

He was like a child, a wild child. This man wasn't the man everyone knew and despised. This wasn't the king. This wasn't even Stannis Baratheon. He was a child like man, tired and lonely. All alone in the vast sea of blood.

How can such a man be a messiah? He can't even save himself from his family. How can I believe he'll save us all from the Night That Never Ends? Where is his fire?

In my many years of life, all beyond my face, I've searched for him. I saw him in my hearth every night. Since he was a boy in his mothers embrace, since he shed a single tear for her. As time passed, her little boy grew, his already dark blue eyes became stone. She remained the same, as he got lost in his own mind, all with his hell bent sense of duty.

If I had only found him earlier, when he was all but a real boy, he would be the Sun itself. I wouldn't have to been seen as his mistress by most, if not all. My words wouldn't be lost to him when he looks at my face and all he see is a woman like any other, all silly and mesmerized by his brothers. I'd be his foster mother, the woman who took care of him and only him.

He's not entirely lost. No, the king had fire on his veins as well. But a different brand of fire. While mine could burn and protect, warm and beautiful. His was cold and furious, cutting deeper than any sword, scaring away it's foes with it's ugly frown.

'This is all but the beginning.'

At least, he was no fool. He knew the war as it was. No glory, but hunger and pain, with winter on our heels, war was a chimera, showing a new ugly head at every hour. But given enough power, he could win. My boy king could rule all the Seven Kingdoms and come back to my arms every night if he so wanted.

'I have a wife.'

You have your duty. Duty is your wife. The only good you took from your marriage is your sad little girl. No matter the ears, she's like you to her tiny little bones.

'I need no love. I'll rule by right alone.'

Words, what are words? Nothing but empty promises. A man who doesn't believe in love wouldn't watch his daughter from afar, all in fear of fashioning her to his image.

But no, that's not what he meant. He said those words to me. He meant to tell me that between us there in no love, there will be no love, and that goes without saying.

I want him to down the darkness and bring me the sun. He want me, because I'm the one who inspire followers. As it turns out, we're nothing much by ourselves. We're a team. The king and the priestess.

I know you better than you know yourself, before you even dreamed of becoming the Lord of Storm's End, much less king. Every shadowy corner of your soul and heart, I know you all.

Those things you call eyes, like the sky at night, it looks like home to me. The only thing I had of you for too long, I found you in my flames with them. When I saw the small boy with the night in his eyes, I knew you were him. I lost my fear that day, I could face the nameless beasts outside with the memories of those eyes. I could escape that barren hell and look for you, to go beneath the shadow and find the Sun.

You lay in storms when a babe, you starved between treason and war, you sat with dragons. You are my savior. It sound silly, like a child hymn when I tell you this. If you were any other man, you would've laughed at my face. In fact, you did, but it was dry and bitter. You didn't mock me with that, you took my power, you placed yourself higher than me with that. You cast me and my god aside, you don't care for us. But you'll use us all the same.

It's not for that man you are that I care for you either, I care for the messenger of the light. Stannis can drown himself in self pit in his stormy keep for all I care, but first he'll bring me the light.

Rise from the ashes boy. From salt and smoke you'll be reborn. You already did. The last bit of hope you had died in an black bay of water. You died in fire and smoke. You rose again, as sure as the morning Sun. The Sun take no rests, and nor should you.

I suppose your personality is both a blessing and a curse. You can't be charmed by my sweet words, only clean cut fact can move you, I can't control you, I can make you mine. But your sheer obstinacy will keep you going, or should I call it stubbornness? For that's what it is.

A king with only one true faithful follower, a smuggler at that. A foreigner woman as your bridge to your army. You're fighting a impossible battle, and wining.

'What you looking at me for, woman?' the fact that I'm a woman is foul in your mouth, a curse. It probably is.

'I'm seeking guidance.' which is true, I look to my past, and pray for a future when I look to you. You're my last hope.

'Do you seek it with your eyes?' the sneer is clear in his face, the lines around his mouth and marble like teeth. I want to laugh, but I know him, so I don't.

Stepping closer, I look down at him, all high and mighty in his chair, he makes it a throne, as imposing as and throne made of fallen swords would be. Ours knees brush as I go even closer. A smile breaks in my face now, and now he doesn't care, for I sit in his legs, hands on his chest.

'Is this how the woman of your country seek guidance?' my fingers smooth out his sneers, outline his ear, caress his thin dark hair.

'Priestess do it like this, yes. But we commune to God.'

'I'm not a god.' another foul word to him. It's a small wonder how he hadn't killed me yet. A woman and a priestess, things he despises and can live without.

'Next best thing. My direct link to Him' by the dirty eye he gives me, I know how that must be a insult to _him_.

Leaning in to his body, covering it with the heat from the ruby, covering his lips with mine. He doesn't push me away, nor he seams to care for it either.

I'll use him the best that I can, the dark stag from Storm's End. I'll make him rise as long I want him to, he can die once I'm done with him.


End file.
